


Confused

by OzQueen



Series: CP 100 situations [24]
Category: Captain Planet and the Planeteers
Genre: F/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And fitting into a box just isn't for her, and she hates it, sometimes – not that she doesn't fit, exactly, but that she feels bad about not fitting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confused

**Author's Note:**

> So I am still totally on board with the idea of Gi, Wheeler and Kwame all being in a totally awesome threesome relationship together. And this is my second attempt at it. Nothing explicit at all - more about Gi's feelings. And it's unbeta'd.

* * *

She never stays, and that is how she lives with it. Because no matter how much pleasure it brings, no matter how many smiles pass across her lips, no matter how many times her heart skips a beat, there is a certain amount of guilt which comes from sleeping with two people at once.

Even if they all know about it, even if they're all happy with it, Gi can't quite get past the overwhelming thought that has been drilled into her across her lifetime, across cultures and countries and friendships and relationships: monogamy.

And fitting into a box just isn't for her, and she hates it, sometimes – not that she doesn't fit, exactly, but that she feels bad about not fitting; feels guilty about separating from the path everyone else deems right.

Kwame never says anything and Wheeler just laughs and says he doesn't care what anyone else thinks. Gi suspects he's lying, just a little, but she doesn't push it – she even envies how easily he slips into confidence, whether it's true or not.

* * *

"How come you don't stay?" Wheeler asks drowsily, his skin sticky and warm against hers, the sheet low against his hips. His arm is slung over her stomach, his cheek on her shoulder. "D'you go straight to Kwame?"

"No," Gi says, not sleepy at all. "Just to bed. Can't sleep beside you, kicking about all night."

He chuckles, but makes no effort to move off her, to let her out of the bed.

"Do you get jealous of him?" Gi asks curiously.

"Nah," Wheeler says, and he sounds tired enough she believes him.

* * *

On another night, in another quiet moment of content and closeness, and she asks him, "How would you explain your relationship with me?"

"Casual," Wheeler says.

She grins and nudges him. "No, I mean, what would you call it? You know, what am I, to you?"

He groans, like she's making him think about something he's always known he's had to answer, but he's been putting it off, like it's homework or an undesirable chore.

"I dunno if there's a word for it," he says eventually. "You'll probably get insulted if I estimate any sort of guess."

She lets the subject die.

* * *

Kwame is different. He tastes different, smells different.

_Deep_ , Gi thinks, though she's not sure deep is an adjective that can be assigned to a thing such as scent.

He tries to answer her questions with questions of his own.

"I think," he says quietly, his fingers stirring slowly against the pale underside of her breast, "that you are looking for a justification of some kind."

"That doesn't answer my question," she says, annoyed.

"Would having an answer make you feel better?" he asks.

"I don't feel _bad_ ," she says eventually. "I just don't feel right."

"Guilty?" Kwame asks.

She looks up at him, his head above hers on the soft white pillow. "I guess," she admits. "But I don't know why. And I don't want to feel guilty, because I don't think what we're really doing is wrong... Not really."

"Neither do I," Kwame says, comfortingly. He kisses the top of her head and Gi thinks, for a while, that she will spend all night in his bed.

(She doesn't. She slips out when he falls asleep, and curls up on her own mattress, alone, and wonders why being herself is so difficult to live with.)

* * *

She doesn't ever get the impression that the boys are competing over her. She doesn't keep count – how many nights she spends with Wheeler compared to how many nights she spends with Kwame. She thinks it's relatively even, though she also thinks they both have a better idea of the actual numbers than she does.

She doesn't ever get the impression that they talk about her or compare notes, though she doesn't _know_ , exactly, that they don't. She doesn't talk much about Wheeler to Kwame, or about Kwame to Wheeler, and they don't ask questions that prompt that sort of conversation.

It's not a competition, or a relationship to keep track of via statistics and numbers, but Gi can't help but think that's what it probably looks like to other people.

* * *

They are different, of course. Before Gi, Kwame had only had sex with one other girl, and she suspects he loved her more than he dares to love Gi. But it's good, and close, and she comes and her body tightens and bends beneath him or above him, her breath stuttering and catching and exploding against his skin.

Wheeler has had sex with so many girls he hasn't bothered to count. He doesn't brag as much about it as Gi thought he would, but he does introduce her to things that flip her mind around and give her aches and strained muscles in strange places. ("Just lift your leg a little higher," he says. "Trust me.")

She loves them both, but she doesn't tell either of them.

* * *

Wheeler is the first to follow her to her own bed, cheekily declaring she'd never listed it as a rule, as off-limits. The morning sun is breaking through her window when he comes, naked and trembling, breath hot and fast against her neck.

She shivers and twitches beneath him, eyes closed, and mumbles curses into his hair about how he's so stubborn, and why can't he just let it be a thing where she can disappear and sleep and not have to be one half of a partnership for a whole night.

"It's not a partnership when there are three people, toots," he says, his mouth open against her breast.

"Get lost," she says, but she's grinning too much for him to take her seriously.

She thinks he tells Kwame about this one, because the next day it's him, following her into the shower, tracing soap-slippery fingers over her body and telling her he wishes, sometimes, that he would wake up and she would still be beside him.

She feels guilty, again, for a decision she had made and was happy with, until somebody made her feel it wasn't quite normal.

* * *

She writes the rules down. She wasn't aware she really had any, until they both start breaking them.

_1\. My room is my room, and when I'm in my room, I want to be alone._

"That's not fair," Wheeler says. "You just come into my room whenever the hell you want. Why can't I go into yours?"

"If you don't want me in your room, just say so," she says.

He doesn't say anything.

"Are these rules just for me?" Kwame asks, looking at the list with a slight air of bewilderment.

"Wheeler, too," Gi says firmly.

_2\. I am not an object to be conquered._

"Certainly not this late in the game," Wheeler says.

She goes to Kwame that night, because she's still pissed at Wheeler, and he tells her of course she's not something to be conquered.

"Is that how you feel?" he asks, looking concerned as he undresses her slowly, lips pressing soft against her skin.

"No," she says truthfully. "I just don't want you to think like that."

"I don't," Kwame promises. "I do not think that Wheeler thinks that way, either."

_3\. I am happy with things the way they are, and I don't want them to change._

"I'm not sure how that can be a rule," Wheeler says, dubiously.

"I'm not sure, either," Gi admits. "But I wanted to say it."

Kwame doesn't say anything to that rule. Gi suspects he doesn't like having to look too far into the future. She suspects he doesn't want to commit to a relationship of three people for the rest of his life, but thinking about when to draw the line and end it is uncomfortable.

She doesn't want it to end at all, but there's an annoying, prickly feeling in the back of her head that says it can't last. That eventually, what is _normal_ and _right_ needs to win out.

"Who cares about normal?" Wheeler asks.

"It's easy for you," she says. "Don't you _ever_ feel guilty?"

"Nope," he says. "And you shouldn't, either. We're all happy, aren't we? It's nobody else's damn business."

She wonders if she will ever be able to think that way. She hopes so. She wants to revel in loving two people, not shy away from it or have it ruined with guilt. She decides to make an effort at rebelling, at staking a claim on what _feels_ normal rather than what she has been told _is_ normal.

She stays with Wheeler all night, waking in his bed at sunrise.

And, the next night, she slips into Kwame's bed, and sleeps beside him. When he says, "Good morning," it feels like the most normal thing in the world.


End file.
